


Fighting

by Rasiaa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluffy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 02:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasiaa/pseuds/Rasiaa
Summary: All Mary can see is the surface; her boys bicker every single day, and she wonders if they even like each other.





	Fighting

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write a scene like this all year so finally did it. I don't think it's all that good, but I wanted it done and this fandom needs more fluff.

Mary isn't entirely sure, at first, whether or not Sam and Dean liked each other, or if they merely tolerated one another because of the job.

They bicker daily over trivial things, like the crumbs on the table - _Show some dignity, Sam, we're not fucking animals_ \- to the kinds of things that show up on Sam's computer - _Honestly, Dean, you need to stop using my laptop_. Mary sees it, notices, because how could she not? These are her sons, and the only other people in this bunker besides. The angel stops by, and then the fighting will stop, mostly, but when he's gone again it's barely ten minutes before they start up.

It's breaking Mary's heart to watch, actually. She had always wanted her boys to get along, to give a damn about one another. But as the days go by, it becomes more obvious to her that they don't care.

It's this thought that rings in her mind as she heads to the kitchen in the middle of the night, tired and there's a stray longing in her that says she should've stayed gone.

She walks into the kitchen and stops in surprise.

Dean's awake, sitting on the floor with headphones over his ears and a book in hand. He doesn't notice her at all as he mouths the words quietly to himself. But that's not what startles her. It's Sam; he's completely asleep, leaning on Dean, and Dean is combing his fingers through Sam's hair. When he stops to turn the page Sam stirs a little, looking slightly alarmed in his sleep. Dean is able to quiet him without even looking.

Dean takes a deep breath and looks up slightly. He freezes, the book falling to the floor. It startles Sam because he jerks awake, Dean's name on his lips. Dean tugs his headphones down so they rest around his neck. "S'just Mom, Sammy. Go back to sleep." Dean looks to the clock on the wall then amends his statement. "Actually, you ought to get to bed."

Sam is blinking heavily, the adrenaline that woke him wearing off. "M'kay," he mutters.

It's like he's not even aware of anything. He goes down the hall without even acknowledging Mary, stumbling a little in his semi-conscious state. Dean sighs, running his hand over his hair. "Sorry," he says.

"What?" Mary is jolted out of her shock by her son addressing her, so she focuses on him. "Why?"

"You looked surprised," Dean says with a shrug, picking up his book and standing from his spot on the floor. He manages to hide a pained grimace quickly, but not fast enough. He's in his late thirties, Mary realizes, and really doesn't need to be on the floor.

"I think I surprised you more than you surprised me," she says. She looks back down the hall. "I thought you didn't like Sam," she says.

Dean drops the book again, so she turns, and when she sees him, he's staring at her like she's grown a second head. "Where did you get that idea?" he demands. "He's my little brother, of course I like him."

She shrugs, a little self-conscious now. "You fight. All the time."

Dean frowns, obviously not understanding.

Mary sighs, grappling for examples. "You were screaming at each other over the bathroom this morning," she says. "And he was yelling about the library two hours later."

Understanding dawns in Dean's eyes. "We're brothers," he says, like this explains everything.

"Then you shouldn't _fight_ ," she responds, frustrated.

"He's a whiny bitch and I'm an asshole, of course we're gonna fight. Doesn't mean I don't love him. I raised the kid. But I'm not his mother, I'm his brother, so it's kind of in the job description to make fun of him. He does the same to me."

Mary just blinks at him, so he sighs. "Like I said - he's my brother, so I'm always gonna look out for him, and he does the same for me, and in between that we poke at each other's flaws and use blackmail and laugh when one of us does something stupid."

She's too tired for this, and maybe he senses that because he just smiles at her and walks away.

…

They're fighting again the next morning, in the kitchen, over the fact that the book was left on the table last night and apparently there were used coffee beans in the machine. Mary has to wonder why it matters, and then Sam stumbles over his words. His sentence comes out all backwards and makes no sense, so he pauses, hand in the air, and blinks at the floor bemusedly.

Dean starts laughing at him, repeating the sentence over and over again as he shoves at Sam lightly. Sam scowls, fighting a smile of his own, and within minutes they're leaning on the walls wiping tears from their cheeks and gasping for breath. They look at each other and the laughter starts all over again.

The problem is that they're quiet when they laugh, like John was. Mary wonders how many of their arguments end like this; laughing until they cry and then quiet whispers of inside jokes that sets them off again.

It takes them a while to notice her lingering in the doorway. Sam finds her first and rights himself, his smile more shy than it was a minute ago. "Morning," he says.

Mary looks at Dean then back to Sam. "Morning," she says.


End file.
